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Ode to My Armpit Hair
This picture was taken several weeks ago at least, so my armpit hair has grown in even more since then! I was thinking of shaving it, but not only do I not like shaving it, I LOVE MY ARMPIT HAIR! I love the way my clothes are starting to tug on it. I just love the way it feels to have hair under there. It feels like a real part of my body, like my arm, and to remove it would be an act of violence. Through all this, I still shave my legs, which is a fact I struggle with. I also love that it's a distinctive thing about me other than the fact that I have two mental illnesses.
Which I guess is what I really wanted to write about: the fact that I feel like I don't have an identity outside of having mental illness. Which sucks, and makes me obsess about my illness, which makes me even more depressed. And I think that's what my armpit hair is all about: doing something different. Different on a lot of levels. Living feminism when the dependence on other people my illness manipulates me into makes me feel like anything but an independent woman. Yet, I don't think my armpit hair is totally about feminism. I just like it.
Which I guess is what I really wanted to write about: the fact that I feel like I don't have an identity outside of having mental illness. Which sucks, and makes me obsess about my illness, which makes me even more depressed. And I think that's what my armpit hair is all about: doing something different. Different on a lot of levels. Living feminism when the dependence on other people my illness manipulates me into makes me feel like anything but an independent woman. Yet, I don't think my armpit hair is totally about feminism. I just like it.
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